Kaspar gained safety with a few moments to spare. It lay deeper within the forest, surrounded by trees growing so thick it was nearly impenetrable. It was no better than a hovel but more than adequate for his needs. All the windows were shrouded and darkened, with his resting place in the underground cellar dug by some hopeful peasant folk years gone. The coffin was no more than a simple sealed box. He only needed the barest crack to gain the safety it afforded.

Whiling away the time before he had to seek refuge, he considered the White Hunter, an idea forming in his mind. He was certain Taj would think he was going mad, but he could not shake the notions pooling in his thoughts.

Could questions planted in the mind of one young Hunter be enough to turn the tide of their relentless pursuit of his kind? It was a gamble Kaspar was intrigued enough to consider as he slipped into the cool darkness of his coffin and let sleep claim him.

The question was the first thing he considered when he awoke that evening. He departed quickly, moving at speeds no human eye could follow. There was only one way to know if his ideas were worth further study. Taj would tell him the truth. He arrived at the manor house of his mentor before the moon gained a quarter of its way into the sky. He was received as few others could be, without delay, or question.

Taj al Katir did not welcome many into his presence. Kaspar was unaware of any others who came to him. That did not mean, of course, that none did; it was simply that Kaspar was not aware of them. Taj kept his own counsel, as many Elders did. Yet, Kaspar knew his mentor was held in higher esteem than most. One of the many reasons was his age.

As far as any of their kind knew, Taj was the eldest of them alive and active. Some were called Elder and Ancient, but even they referred to Taj as "The Ancient". No one seemed to know for certain just how old Taj was. He did not speak of it, and no one was impertinent enough to inquire.

Kaspar was ushered into a large sitting room, the doors to a patio open to allow the evening air inside. Taj stood just within the doors, his back to the garden bursting with night-blooming flowers beyond. The curtain of his ink-black hair was held back by a deep red leather thong, falling to the middle of his back in a thick braid. His eyes were as dark, almond-shaped, and tilted slighted at the corners, but his skin was olive-toned and smooth. Kaspar would guess he was no older than two decades when he was Turned. But those dark eyes held more knowledge than he could ever learn. As soon as the servant left them, Taj smiled in welcome.

"You wandered so long, I feared you would never return," Taj scolded lightly.

Kaspar chuckled. "Dare I believe you missed me?"

Taj grinned at him, shaking his head. "Never, you rotten boy! You are the bane of my existence."

Kaspar sighed in mock despair. "And I so wanted your approval, Papa!"

Taj laughed, beckoning him forward. "Come now. Tell me about these Hunters you faced last night."

Kaspar didn't bother to wonder how Taj knew of the Hunt he escaped. He gave up wondering how his mentor knew anything decades ago. He followed him out into the garden, breathing deeply from the blooms. They strolled down one of the numerous paths, Taj occasionally reaching out to touch the moon-kissed petals of the flowers bursting open around them.

"They were young," Kaspar began, "and over-eager; skilled to a point, but still not strong enough to be a true challenge for us in our element."

"However?"

Kaspar smiled. "But there was one who seemed more astute than the others. He did not follow a false trail I laid. He Hunted me not my signs."

Taj arched a dark brow at him. "More astute. And braver than most, no?"

"He wasn't afraid, Taj, even when I touched him." Kaspar could not hide the admiration he still held for the Hunter. He was used to inspiring terror by simply being seen by humans. This young man did not flinch in his presence.

"Perhaps he is mad."

"Perhaps I am," Kaspar admitted. "I believe I might be able to talk to him."

Taj stopped to study a clump of lilies, their petals waxen in the moonlight. "Talking to humans produces very minimal results, Kaspar. They fear us, hate us, or worship us. If you have no plans to drink of him, do not seek him out."

"But he listened, Taj," Kaspar insisted. "He heard me."

"And what did you say?" Taj steered him to a wrought iron bench nearby, a few long-stemmed roses hanging heavy from their bush nearby.

"I asked how he knew I was evil. I asked how he could believe he was taught the totality of truth."

Taj gave him a rueful smile. "Wise questions, my boy, but do you truly believe his Fathers will allow them to bear fruit?"

"Taj, you and I, we were forced to be as we are. Some revel in blood, but not all of us murder humans because they are slower and weaker. I want him to know that. I want them all to know that. If I can, I want to help them remove the murderous sort, but they must be made aware we are not all savage killers."

Taj sighed, studying a particularly large vibrant red rose that brushed his shoulder. "Your passion is a thing of beauty, Kaspar, but how many humans will stand still long enough to care?"

Kaspar rose to pace a few steps in front of the bench, peering back at Taj, relaxing as if he had no cares in the world. "I can only hope to walk this world as long as you," he said quietly. "If it means I must battle those humans who mean us no good intent, I grieve for it. But if we could manage a truce with them, is there harm in trying?"

Taj sat forward, all appearances of languid disinterest gone. "A truce?" he asked softly. "You mean peace."

"Yes. If we could live in peace, wouldn't you rather?"

Taj shook his head in wonder, clearly astonished at the turn of his protégé's thoughts. "You are asking me to consider something most of our kind believes unfeasible. Peace with humans? If we could have it, I would leap for it. They are so many and so varied, with their factions within factions. They kill each other in the name of their gods. How can we trust they will be steadfast to any pact we may agree to?"

Kaspar returned to the bench, sitting close to the Ancient. "We need not allow ourselves to be known by all of them. You have taught me that trust can be best carried by a few. You also taught me that one can make a greater difference than one hundred."

Taj's smile was slow coming, but his dark eyes sparkled with pride. "You want to seek him out, I know. Perhaps you may come across him again. If you take him, his Brothers will not rest until they recover him."

Kaspar shook his head. "I simply want to talk to him. I want to show him I am not a slavering beast, only a creature not so different from him."

Taj laughed quietly, plucking the rose that brushed his shoulder from the bush. The thorns pierced his fingers, but he ignored the blood that seeped forth. He presented the bloom to Kaspar with a playful flourish. The younger man accepted, sampling the scent absently.

"I know this is madness, to consider placing myself where he can find me, but I have to try. If you tell me otherwise, I will think it through again," Kaspar sighed. "I still have to try."

"Even as young as you are, you are a credit to my teaching, Kaspar," Taj smiled. "I will support you so long as you pose no danger to yourself. It is madness, to be sure, though even madmen have moments of brilliance."

Kaspar grinned, holding the rose to his face to conceal his pleasure. The praise, backhanded though it was, was rare enough to make him pray he would give merit to his mentor's trust in him.

***

Gabriel had no idea he was asleep until he woke. There was no transition. He went from no awareness to full alert, his senses sharpened by the soft creak from the door. He was on his feet, poised for defense before his eyes were fully open. Jeremiah stood frozen in the doorway, his blue eyes wide when he caught sight of Gabriel. He knew that pose. They practiced it together every day.

"Are you awake, Brother?" he asked quietly. Jeremiah waited one heartbeat, then another... and Gabriel blinked, as he uncoiled and stood.

"Now, I am."

Jeremiah smiled, although a bit cautiously. If Gabriel did attack, he would be very nearly helpless. He carried a tray of food for him, easing into the small room; he laid it on Gabriel's desk.

"Forgive my intrusion, Brother," Jeremiah murmured. "When you didn't join me, I thought you'd gone to the chapel."

Gabriel shook his head slightly, clearing the last of the fog from his mind. "What time is it?"

"It is after noontime, Brother. You have slept nearly the day through," Jeremiah told him.

"Were you worn from our Hunt, Jeremiah?"

"I was, yes," Jeremiah nodded. "I rested after our morning meal, but I only slept till midday bells woke me."

Gabriel sighed, settling back onto his bed, he absently began straightening the covers barely rumpled from his deep slumber. "I hadn't planned to sleep at all."

"Think naught of it, Brother," Jeremiah waved concerns away. They all knew the Questioning could drain even the hardiest of them. "Come and eat, now. You must keep your strength up."

Gabriel moved to the desk, inhaling the steam wafting from the bowl of thick stew on the tray. A generous portion of dark brown bread and a mug of cool ale completed the meal. As he whispered thanks to God for the gifts of sustenance, Jeremiah sat on his bed and murmured the short prayer under his breath. While Gabriel ate, they discussed minor things, from whom might be considered for the Cloak, to where their next Hunt might take them.

Jeremiah left the door open, and occasionally, a hail would come from a Brother passing by. Most knew by now of Gabriel's brush with a Darkling and heard that he was found Untainted as well. Some, having yet to attain the Cloak, came for the sake of titillation, but Gabriel did not indulge them. He accepted their well-wishes but gave them no reason for hero-worshipping when they gazed upon him, eyeing the pristine Cloak hanging beyond him. Jeremiah's hope that he could maintain his aplomb after such an encounter increased. He always strived to match Gabriel.

They were of an age, barely twenty, yet Jeremiah often felt younger. Gabriel surpassed him in all areas and was offered their team's leadership, but declined, naming Jeremiah as a more competent commander. They became as close as true brothers, although Gabriel gently declined Jeremiah's frequent invitations to accompany him when he visited his family. Gabriel devoted himself with a single-minded passion to his training and study. There were reasons for his near-obsessive dedication.

Gabriel was adopted by the Order as a child too young to speak clearly. His family, he was told, was decimated by a pack of Darklings on the rampage. To Jeremiah's surprise, he bore no hatred for them. He simply believed he was spared because he was meant to be.

"God must have some use for me," Gabriel told him once, very quietly, in the privacy of this very room. "Else why would he spare me and bring me to the Order's holy work?"

Several days later, they stood stripped to the waist. Each held a quarterstaff at the ready and their team members stood around watching. It was a rare pleasure to watch Gabriel and Jeremiah spar. It was not so rare, however, for Gabriel to win. Jeremiah's body was scored by numerous strikes from his opponent's staff. Gabriel bore no hint of the mock battle. He wasn't even breathing hard.

"Shall we stand down?" Gabriel offered, peering through vibrant red stray locks falling into his eyes.

Jeremiah blew loose, sweat-soaked blonde strands of hair out of his face. "One day," he breathed, "I'll ask you that instead."

Gabrielgrinned and bowed. With a sigh, Jeremiah returned the bow and they embraced.Around them, their Brothers applauded.